Thursday, January 28, 2016

Among the vast collection of jokes that I have heard from my father over the years is the following:There was once a British fellow, a rich American, an Indian, an imbecile, and an Israeli sitting together in a diner. The Brit turned to the quadro and said, "excuse me gentlemen, what is your opinion about the meat shortage?"The rich American replied "what is a shortage?"The Indian replied "what is meat?" The imbecile said "what is an opinion?"The Israeli asked "mah zeh excuse me?"Are Israelis rude?After having the zechus to spend almost two weeks in eretz Yisroel with our son shalom, in honor of his bar mitzvah, I have spent much time pondering this question. Well, I didn't have to really ponder the question. I had a few occasions when I was given the opportunity to ponder the question. Like when I asked a cab service if I can make a reservation and told them when I needed it for, and the dispatcher abruptly replied that they don't have then and promptly hung up.Or when I had set myself up in a seat in one of the shteiblach where we went to daven (which have minyanim every fifteen minutes and basically have open seating). An elderly gentleman then walked in and placed his tallis bag where I was without saying a word to me, basically signaling me to move.Or when asking people for directions and they make that unexplainable noise with their tongue clicking the roof of their mouths, which seems to imply that your question is pathetic or irrelevant, but really just means that they don't know.To answer the question we need to look at the opposite end of the spectrum and ask if we Americans are too sensitive and wimpy. I recently saw an article in The Atlantic which discussed the negative fallout of the western worlds efforts to maintain political correctness. The result is that we are breeding a society of adult babies who can't handle the slightest offense, real or imagined.This issue trickles down to our approach to child-rearing in which parents unwittingly overprotect their children and in so doing unwittingly steal from them the opportunity to learn how to get by in a highly competitive and often judgmental world. Childish banter is often called bullying with disastrous results, both for the labeled "bully" as well as for the labeled "victim". (This of course doesn't discount the problem of real bullying that at times exists and is a serious issue.)So what defines rudeness and what defines over-sensitivity?The answer of course depends on perception. To us Israelis may indeed at times appear rude and abrupt. But living in the world they live in with the challenges that are part of their daily life, what would happen if they were more like us wimpy Americans?And would we not be better off as a nation if we could adopt some Israeli bravado? Wouldn't it do us well to be able to not care about petty comments or perceived insults?What would we give for an American tour-guide to tell a few kibitzing teens during her lecture that they are welcome to go outside if they don't find her interesting, but they may not talk while she is talking? [This actually happened at a tour we attended this week.] I wonder what would happen to a rabbi if he tried that in shul where a congregant was talking during davening? He may find himself looking through the rabbinical classifieds the following week.To be honest, I didn't appreciate when the dispatcher rudely hung up on me, or when the elderly men wordlessly told me to move. However, I did recognize that that they didn't mean any offense.Perhaps we can find some happy middle ground - a mixture of Israeli bravado and American manners. This way the dispatcher would wish me a pleasant evening before he slammed the phone down and made a sarcastic comment.

Wishing you Shabbat Shalom and Good Shabbos from Yerushalayim!Dani Staum

Thursday, January 14, 2016

It’s
perhaps the most rabbinic word in the dictionary. If a person has aspirations
to become a rabbi, aside from knowing halacha and how to develop a practical
lesson from the parsha, he’s gotta be able to pronounce the word and say it
with ease: Vicissitudes! This one word is appropriate in virtually any setting
– births, bar/bat mitzvahs, weddings, anniversaries, tragedies r’l, etc. The
vicissitudes of life refer to life’s ups and downs, its uncertainties,
anxieties and misgivings, all of which are all part and parcel of life.

How
do we deal with those vicissitudes? The answer lies in what everyone seems to
be looking for and cannot get enough of – chizuk! With a good dose of chizuk we
feel energized and revitalized to deal with whatever life throws at us. Chizuk
can come from anywhere or anything. Sometimes it’s hearing a song with lyrics
that ‘speak to you’, at times one can feel chizuk from seeing a sign or store,
reading something, etc.

One
of our greatest sources of chizuk is quite overlooked. The gemara relates that
during the era of prophecy the Jewish people boasted tens of thousands of
prophets. However, only those that were applicable to the ages were recorded in
the canon of Tanach. The words of the Prophets are as applicable today as they
were when they were uttered by those great personages three thousand years ago.

The
problem is that things have not changed much. Just as our ancestors didn’t want
to hearken to the prophet’s message then, so do many of us not pay much
attention to the words of the Prophets in our time. How many people are
remotely familiar with the timeless, glorious prophecies of Yeshaya, Yirmiyah,
and Yechezkel? How many people can even list the names of the twelve prophets
that compose sefer Trei Asar?

After
the attacks on September 11th, I heard a lecture from a noted talmid
chochom in which he strongly encouraged people to begin learning Nach (the
Prophets and the Writings) regularly. I hearkened to that advice and try to learn
a few minutes of Nach each morning. While many of the prophecies are painful to
learn, there are many that are incredibly heartwarming and encouraging. The
Prophets’ stirring words of consolation and hope can literally melt a heart of
stone. In my personal study of Nach, when I encounter those prophecies I
literally feel a stirring of emotion within me.

Each
week our Chazal enacted that we read a portion from the Neviim which connects
with the weekly parsha. There does not seem to be an end to the vicissitudes of
life. But each week we have the opportunity to hear the Prophets speak to us,
and with their guidance and chizuk we can learn to navigate and contend with
all that confronts us.

There
is an oft-quoted bad pun that states that our yeshivos don’t sufficiently
emphasize Nach because they are non-for-prophet institutions. The truth is that
we are the ones who are really forfeiting the greatest profits by neglecting
the study of the Prophets.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Periodically at a simcha the waiter will
give the guests a choice about what kind of soup they would like. When the
waiter asks me if I would like vegetable soup or broccoli soup, I often reply
that broccoli is a vegetable too, so it’s really a choice between vegetable or
vegetable soup. At times the waiter will smile, sometimes he will simply repeat
the choices, and other times he will stand there in absolute confusion
wondering why he accepted to do my table. Choosing soup is serious
business.

I recently attended a wedding where the
waiter pouring the soup only got some in the bowl. The rest went down the sides
of his ladle and onto the dress of the women he was serving. When the woman’s
husband showed the waiter what he had done, the waiter replied “This is not my
table. I am only doing a favor for your waiter.”

On the opposite end of the spectrum, a
few weeks ago I met a friend who I haven’t seen in some time. He related that
he is currently the assistant rabbi in his shul. I congratulated him and told
him that he will probably have the opportunity to become a full fledged rabbi
somewhere soon. He replied in all sincerity “I want to do whatever G-d has in
mind for me.” I was very impressed with his reply. It was simple and yet so
profound.

Not too long after I was meeting with
the hanhala of Mesivta Ohr Naftali, where I serve as principal, and we were
discussing a challenging yeshiva-related issue. After debating the issue and
discussing our options for some time, the room became quiet as everyone weighed
our options. The Rosh Yeshiva then asked out loud, “Okay, what does Hashem want
us to do?” Then he repeated our options and we charted out what we felt was our
best plan of action.

In our own home we have been consumed
with bar mitzvah planning, b’h. As anyone who has ever made a simcha knows
well, a simcha comes with many headaches and a tremendous amount of planning
and attention to details. Chani and I were discussing one such sensitive issue
and were having a hard time making a final decision. Chani turned to me and
asked “What does Hashem want us to do?”

At first, I didn’t even realize how many
times that question has been posed recently. It was only once I began writing
this brilliant essay that I realized it. I’m hopeful that if I keep hearing it
from the good people who surround me, perhaps it will eventually begin to
penetrate.

Belief in Hashem does not exonerate one
from personal responsibility. It does not give one license to say ‘well this is
what was supposed to happen, and it’s not my fault’. In fact, the very opposite
is true. We are obligated to do all in our ability to ensure that we have done
all G-d expects from us. There are undoubtedly many times when we are simply
unsure what Hashem wants from us. It’s during those times when we turn to our
rebbe or Torah guide, and of course to Hashem in tefillah for the wisdom and insight
about how to proceed.

As our bechor, Yaakov Meir Shalom,
concludes his thirteen years of basic-training and becomes a full ledged
solider in G-d’s army, we hope and pray that he will live his life with this
mantra in mind. We hope he will never be afraid to face reality, and never
cower from responsibility by claiming that “it’s not my table.” Rather, he will
live his life by always asking himself “What does Hashem want from me right now
in this situation?”